


Endless

by RumbleFish14



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Caretaking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Gallavich, M/M, Medicine, One Shot, Sad and Happy, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23036461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumbleFish14/pseuds/RumbleFish14
Summary: Mickey takes care of Ian when he's down, Ian wonders if Mickey will make him take his meds...or what happens if he doesn't
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 18
Kudos: 169





	Endless

**Author's Note:**

> Little sad, but needed. They can't all be rainbows
> 
> Reflects my mood, this helped a two week writing gap...

Endless  
(Oneshot)

It was happening again. That awful dark cloud lingered above his redhead, following him around like a shadow. A black, dreadful, soul sucking shadow.

Mickey saw it that first day when the light in Ian's eyes seemed a little dim. Not dark, but off in a way that he didn't like. Ian's eyes were sad, his lips only lifted on one side as he smiled past it. 

Day by day it would get worse. First the sad eyes and half a smile, then he simply wouldn't be up for anything, including doing nothing. He wouldn't talk or eat or shower. There would be forced smiles for a while until it just became too hard to try. 

The worst part about it was that there was no reason for any of it to be happening now. They were happy for the moment, happier with Terry in jail once again, leaving them all the time in the world to be together. 

Holed up at the house, finally sleeping together after numerous arounds of exhausting sex. They would bask in the afterglow while they fought over the last cigarette in the pack, or playfully shove each other to get direct access to stand under the hot water. 

Just last night they were tangled on the sagging couch watching reruns of some shitty comedy show. Laughing until their sides hurt, making cheesy comments and jokes. Dressed in only boxers with Ian pressed into his back, stealing kisses behind his ear. 

And now it was gone. Or it was going.

"I wish I could help." Mickey broke the silence, his voice way softer, more watery than he meant it to be. 

It took a second too long, but Ian glanced at him, looking up from his cold, untouched coffee, and smiled that little sad smile. 

"Can I?" Mickey asked hopefully. 

He even tossed out his 'no overly gay shit' rule and held his hand out to Ian, palm up, waiting for him. 

Ian moved sluggishly, but linked their hands and squeezed as much as he was able to. "You are helping Mick. This helps." He squeezed again, making sure he knew. 

"It doesn't feel like enough." Mickey countered back, swallowing to keep the emotion down before it swallowed him. "We could talk. Or I could talk if you don't want to. Or sleep maybe, that makes it go by faster, right?"

At that, Ian bent down and kissed the back of his hand. "I do like when you talk."

The sweetest relief pumped through his body. If Ian liked to hear him talk, then he could talk his ear off about anything and everything. He would talk as much as he needed until he felt a little better. 

The first thing that came to his mind was the truest thing he knew about himself and about them and for once he didn't brush it off. "I love you."

For that, Ian grinned, feeling Mickey's hand shake against his. "I love you too Mick."

The kitchen table was nowhere to talk like this. It felt as cold as the floor under his feet, or as cold as the coffee. He was cold inside, from fear, from feeling helpless. There was nothing he could do to help him feel better and that hurt the most.

"Come on." Mickey said as stood, tugging Ian's heavy arm. "Feels too cold in here."

Ian stood, saying nothing and came willingly into his room. 

Mickey shut the door, a little surprised when Ian just stood there instead of moving towards the messy bed. 

"Shower?" He asked, staring a hole into him until Ian met his eyes.

"Seems too hard. Can we just lay down?"

"Yeah, we can do that."

Mickey clicked off the light, then led Ian to his bed, letting him stand next to it while he tossed the ratty blanket over the window, blocking out the sun; the opposite of Ian's mood. 

"I'm sorry." Ian whispered, eyes cast to the ground. 

Mickey sighed, pushing past that painful ache in his chest. "You don't have to be."

"I am though."

This was part of it, Ian apologizing for shit he couldn't control. It was like he couldn't help it and had to say it again and again, every time the silence became too much. 

Mickey learned to let him get it out, to say it because he needed to. He met that apology with kind, reassuring words that put more and more space between the next time. 

"Come on, time to talk." Mickey helped Ian out of his clothes. First his shirt, then the baggy sweatpants until he was only wearing boxers. He pulled back the messy sheets and nodded. "You know how this works red, in ya go."

While Ian slumped into the bed, making it look like he had a set of anvils on his shoulders, Mickey stripped to his boxers as well, missing that fire Ian usually had in his eyes when it happened. 

"Don't worry Mick," Ian patted the empty place next to him. "Even like this I still know what I like."

That was enough to make him flush hotly, that pink hue coming to his cheeks. He normally hated it but this time, he welcomed it. He let it show, he let Ian see it because when he did, that smile stayed on his face a moment longer. 

As he climbed on the bed, Mickey eyed the neat row of meds on the headboard, waiting to be used. Hoping to be used. 

As much as Mickey wanted Ian to take them, as much as Ian needed to take them, he didn't ask or push or demand. That would only set them back, it would create tension over a delicate situation. 

Normally when they got all gay and cuddly like this, Ian was the one to lay down and Mickey would make himself at home. Laying on his chest, one hand rubbing the soft skin on Ian's sternum while Ian embraced him, keeping him close. 

But times like this, the bad days, it was switched. Mickey laid on his back this time and pulled a sluggish Ian to him, one arm around his shoulders until red hair was pushed under his chin. 

Ian didn't speak, but he let out that deep, exhausted, content sigh and seemed to sag against him like those anvil were finally removed from his shoulders. 

Mickey would do anything for that reaction. It helped him relax in ways nothing else could. This way, Ian was safe, warm and comfortable while he battled the demons he couldn't reach. 

"This helps." Ian mumbled against his chest, face turned into it as much as possible. 

Mickey kissed his hair and pulled the blankets around them until he received another deep sigh. "Yeah, this helps me too."

A few moments passed when they didn't talk. Just slow movements, mostly from him. Mickey threaded his fingers into red hair, rubbed up and down Ian's spine, then his lower back. His other hand was linked with Ian's, their fingers interlaced tightly. 

When Ian broke the silence, Mickey nearly had to stop breathing to hear it. It was so soft, scared...and so very tired. 

"Are you going to make me take them?" 

Mickey refused to look up at the pills above them. "I can't force you to take them, and I won't."

Ian sighed, snuggling closer. "But you think I should."

It wasn't a question. 

They had this talk a few times, about Ian's meds, about his recent diagnosis. The effects, their confusion to get a handle on it, to try and understand. Those talks had been a little tense, heated without anger but fear, uncertainty. 

There was no easy way to handle it. It just was and the way it went down was up to them and how they chose to go about it. 

"I think they would help." Mickey responded after a moment, his voice soft like before, no alteration from the change of subject. "I think they would make you feel better."

"If I didn't take them, would you leave?"

Mickey closed his eyes as pain tore through him. "No Ian, I wouldn't leave."

"Why not?" Ian asked, unable to mask the watery sound in his throat.

"Because I love you. Just like I did before we knew." Mickey pulled Ian closer when he felt the slight tremble in his shoulders. "It'll be hard without anything to help, but I'll do what I can."

"I'm scared. Of taking them, of not taking them. Of what it means." Ian buried his face in Mickey's chest as the tears fell slowly. 

"Why are you scared to take them?" Mickey asked. 

"Because if I do, it'll be forever." Ian answered quietly. "I won't be able to stop."

Fuck. Mickey felt tears well in the corners of his eyes, but refused to let them fall. Ian wasn't wrong. The moment he took the pills, he would have to take them the rest of his life. 

Before he replied, Mickey took a series of deep breaths, hoping Ian didn't notice his sudden emotional state. "You don't like feeling like this, do you?"

Ian shook his head. 

"If I had something to make me feel better when I'm sad, I'd take them. Even if it was forever." Mickey said honestly, meaning every word and hoped Ian knew that. "If I could shift that shit to me and not you, I'd do that too."

Ian pulled out of his chest, cheeks damp with tears. He moved back enough to look up at him. "I don't want this for you Mickey. It's just…" He shook his head, unable to word it. "You don't want it."

"No, I don't. But I don't want it to have you either." Mickey unlinked their fingers and cupped Ian's face, slowly rubbing his thumb along his jaw, his lips, thumbing at his ear. "There are only so many things we can do here Ian. And I can't tell you what to do."

"Can you promise they'll make me feel better?" Ian asked, leaning into Mickey's hand when he wiped the tears away. 

"No, I can't. But I think if it helps even a little, that it's worth it to try." When Ian nodded, saying yes, Mickey smiled, then bent down, kissing him the softest he could manage, maybe the softest in his life. "You're not alone Ian."

Ian leaned up for another kiss, then sat up and grabbed a pill from each bottle. He tossed them back dry, then all but slumped back into bed. 

"It already feels awful." Ian whined, hating himself for it, but Mickey squeezed tighter. "Thank you."

"That's what I'm here for." Mickey smiled, calmly trying to get them away from anything too deep. "Maybe when you feel better, we can take a shower, get some food, hmm? Like real food."

Ian's face twisted in disgust. "Shower yes, food is going to wait."

"Even if I make pancakes?" Mickey smiled when Ian's stomach groaned. "You eat the shit out of those pancakes."

"You never make them." Ian smiled, unable to help it as he glanced up. "Breaking out those cooking skills just for me?"

"I'd never cook 'em for anyone else." Mickey shifted, moving Ian a little until they were on their sides, heads pushed together. "Thank you, for taking them."

Ian didn't smile, but pet his face instead, studying every little freckle. "Thank you for not asking. The choice is hard enough without everyone telling me."

Everyone meant everyone. Mandy, Fiona, Lip and the rest of the little Gallaghers. Even V mentioned it. 

Ian knew better than anyone what he felt, what he needed to do. But them adding pressure didn't help him work through it. 

That's why Mickey didn't ask, or put in his two cents about it, even when he wanted Ian to take them. Because he needed them. In the end it had to be Ian's choice, and it was because of that, that he let Ian do it at his own pace.

"It doesn't matter what I want Ian, or what I think should happen. This is about you, you have to make the choice because you want to, not because of me or anyone else."

Ian smiled an actual smile and Mickey had never seen anything so beautiful before. 

"All the choices I make, I make them with you in the front of my mind. Not pushing me into it, but there because you're always there. Helping, waiting." Ian sighed deeply. "What I do or don't do will affect the both of us and I don't want to mess it up."

"You're a sap." Mickey chuckled but knew Ian heard the emotion under it. "And you can't mess this up Ian, nothing can do that."

Ian kissed him with more force, more passion than he felt in the last two days. It was just hard enough to bring a gasp from him, right into his mouth. 

"Ian…" Mickey gasped, putting his fingers to Ian's lips before he could kiss him again. "I mean it, okay? There isn't anything you could do to mess this up."

"Promise?" Ian whispered, kissing over the tips of his fingers. 

"I promise on everything. You and me are supposed to be together Ian." Mickey let his fingers slip away and Ian was instantly taking another kiss that took his breath away. "We can do this. You can do this."

Ian bit his lip, trying not to cry again. "I need you Mick. I don't want to do this by myself. I don't think I can."

At that, Mickey smiled, putting Ian's hand against his heart. "If you had to do it alone, you can because you're a badass. You know how to handle your shit." Ian smiled, but the tears fell. "But you don't have to do it alone because I'm always going to be here."

When Ian kissed him again, laughing a little as he did so, Mickey let it happen. He chuckled at his eagerness, at his laugh, how happy it sounded, at least for now. 

Mickey kissed him back with that same smile, smiling more because now Ian knew it would be okay. He knew that even with this looming over them, over him, that he would be there for it all. The good, the bad, the ups and the downs, when it hurt the worst...he would be there. 

"Fuck, I love you so much Mick." Ian pulled back to say, holding his face. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but fuck…"

Mickey grinned. "The best people deserve the best things in life. And you got me, so that must mean you're the shit."

Ian snorted, rolling to his back. Pulling Mickey tightly against his side. "You could be wrong about that."

"Yeah, you're right." Mickey clicked his tongue. "Guess that means I'm the shit and you got lucky."

"Yeah, must be it." Ian put his hand to the back of Mickey's neck, pulling him to his mouth as that smile flirted in the corner of his lips. 

The heat that was missing from Ian's eyes when he got undressed was currently back. Aimed at him like a ball of fire, he couldn't escape it and didn't want to, he just wasn't sure if they were up for it after the talk. 

"We should be resting." Mickey nuzzled his lips, smiling when Ian sucked in a sharp breath. 

Ian nodded. "I know, and I'm tired. But I miss you."

Mickey's heart beat fast. Nothing sexual, but because he missed Ian too, more than he realized and he'd been there the entire time. 

"Fuckin missed you too." Mickey kissed him deeply, but didn't move on top of him when Ian pulled at him. "And I want to, I really do."

Ian smiled, tugging at him. 

"But after, yeah?" Mickey asked, more like insisted and Ian stopped pulling at him. "Some sleep, food, a shower. Everyday shit."

"Fine, but after. Please?" Ian rose up to kiss him again, then settled against the bed, his arm tangled in dark hair. "I want something normal, I want you, I want us."

"After, I promise." Mickey wiggled down, this time his head was on Ian's chest and all that tension and worry seeped out. "Love you."

Ian yawned, eyes closing quicker than he expected. "Love you too Mickey."

Mickey couldn't shut his eyes until Ian was breathing deeply, that cute snoring sound coming from his parted lips, letting him know he was asleep. The soft sound, plus Ian's beating heart was enough to lure him to sleep. 

The last thought he could remember, was wondering if Ian would feel better when he woke up, if he would feel a difference since he took the pills. Or if it was too soon to tell. 

Mickey just hoped that no matter what Ian woke up feeling like, that the smile they found within the last hour would be there. With that smile, Mickey knew whatever happened, it would be okay.


End file.
